You and I
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: The Dixon brothers own a bar just outside of a little town in northern Georgia. One day, a silver-haired woman walks into the bar and steals Daryl's heart. They hit it off, but what Daryl doesn't know is that this woman is keeping some secrets that could put both of them in danger. AU. No zombie apocalypse. Caryl.
1. Chapter 1

_You and I - Chapter 1_

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**Welcome to my new Caryl fic, "You and I". I plan for this one to be short - a few chapters, maybe. It's based off the song "You and I" by Lady GaGa, so if you've heard that, you can kind of guess what this is going to be about. It's going to be written entirely from Daryl's perspective.**

**I will still be doing my other fics, but I'm currently having writer's block for them. To break that, I decided to write this. Daryl may seem a little OC, but what are you gonna do.**

**I don't own the Walking Dead. Sorry.**

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**1**

Daryl rested his elbows on the counter and leaned forward, putting the weight of his upper body onto the counter. There were a few men seated at the bar, nonchalantly sipping their drinks. There were a few that were sharing a dirty story about some girl from the next town over. The tables that were laid out before him were predominantly empty. The only one that was occupied was a small table in the corner were a cute blond was giggling as Merle Dixon tried to seduce her. Daryl rolled his eyes as his brother put his arm around the blond, making her giggle even more. His brother always was the ladies' man.

Ever since Daryl and Merle Dixon had bought this rundown old bar, it was clear that Merle was far more interested in the women that came inside, as opposed to actually running it. So while the older Dixon chased the women and gave them free drinks, Daryl managed the place—made sure no fights broke out when some of the guys got rowdy, made sure everyone paid their bills, and made sure that either he or Merle paid for the drinks his brother gave out to every woman with a nice rack. It seemed to be an easy job, and in some aspects, it was.

The brothers didn't have to work during the day, only afternoons and nights. Also, in buying the bar, they got a free house, (for all intents and purposes) out of the deal. Their "house", as Merle insisted they call it, was just the small apartment upstairs from the bar itself. It was only three rooms—a bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen—and made Daryl feel claustrophobic. As a man that loved the outdoors and liked to hunt, he hated feeling contained, or trapped, and that apartment made him experience all those things. So, he rarely spent time up there. When Merle would hang out up their while the bar was closed, Daryl would do chores outside, or inside the bar. He'd organize the liquor again, polish the counter, or the tables, write checks to pay their bills—anything he could do to avoid spending time in that "house".

That evening was no different. The bar had just opened a couple hours ago, and Daryl was already making a to-do list in his head. There were so many things that would need doing. Once all the customers left, he'd clean up, try to get their electrified sign to work (he had no idea where Merle got the piece of shit, but it was practically useless), and from there, he'd find small little tasks to do, just to prolong the time he had before he went to that prison up there.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the bell chime as the door opened. He didn't notice the lone woman that entered his bar and walked up to the counter self-consciously. It was only when she spoke, that he looked up.

"Um… hello?" His head snapped up and he came face to face with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. They were the color of sapphires, and they shone like the stars. Even though Daryl saw traces of pain and nervousness in them, he could not help but be overwhelmed by their beauty. The eyes of this woman seemed to penetrate him, and stare into his soul. He was helpless under their gaze, and all he could do was stare. He didn't dare look away in case they disappeared; he never wanted to lose sight of them. Nothing he'd ever seen could ever match their perfection.

"Sir?"

The woman's voice broke him out of his daze, and he allowed his eyes to wander over the rest of her face. The woman was shorter than him, and seemed to be a year or two older. She had short, silver hair that was slightly spiked. Her face was pale, but it looked kind. She had an innocent, sweet look about her that made Daryl feel weak in the knees. And not only that; the rest of her was just as beautiful as her eyes! Her slender neck, her curvy face, her small, pink lips—they were driving him mad. There was just something about her that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. Hell, he didn't even know her name, and yet he wanted to leap across the countertop and pull her into his arms, and hold her there forever.

Daryl's own desires were frightening him. He'd never felt such things about anyone before. Was this how Merle felt whenever he saw a beautiful woman? If so, Daryl understood why his brother was always chasing women. If Merle wanted them as much as Daryl wanted this woman, he finally understood why.

"Uh… hi," Daryl finally mumbled. He knew that she had to have noticed the way he outwardly stared at her. He knew that she must have noticed how he was studying her face, committing it to memory. "What can I get ya?"

The woman eased herself onto one of the barstools and thought for a moment. "How about a Jack and Coke?"

"Sure." As Daryl made the drink, he could feel the woman's eyes on him, and suddenly felt hot. Was she studying him and wondering why he had gaped at her, or was she checking him out? By the looks of her, she hadn't come to flirt, but you could never be too sure. Daryl glanced up a few times, but the woman always averted her gaze to her hands, or to the other customers.

When he set her drink on the counter, she gave him a smile that nearly made his heart stop. "Thanks." When Daryl didn't move from his position in front of her, she arched an eyebrow. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

Daryl could have choked on his tongue, and would have welcomed it. "I… I… uh… I just… I thought that ya looked like someone I know s'all."

The woman blinked before taking a sip of her drink. "Oh," she murmured, after she swallowed. "I thought it was something else."

_Somethin' else?_ Those words made Daryl's heart beat fast. Was she hoping that he found her attractive? "So… Haven't seen ya 'round these parts before."

The woman smirked. "So you've determined that you _don't_ know me. No, I'm not from around her. I'm not from Georgia at all, actually."

Daryl could tell by her lack of an accent, but her words still made him curious. Something about him made him want to know everything he could about her. "So where are ya from?"

"I thought good bartender just listens?" she asked with a playful smirk.

"I never claimed ta be a good bartender," Daryl pointed out, feeling proud of himself for giving her his comeback without hesitation.

The woman considered this for a moment before sighing. "I used to live in Connecticut. I lived there most of my childhood, but then I met my husband. He was from Georgia and… when we got married, we moved down here."

_Husband?_ His heart fell. He should have known that it was too good to be true. Besides, a woman like her would never be interested in someone like him. _Shoulda known better._ "Oh… He meetin' ya here?"

She watched him with confused eyes. Daryl shifted nervously under her gaze. Had he sounded too disappointed? After a while, she shook her head, looking a little sad herself. "I don't think so. I hope not."

"Ya hope not?" Daryl said, perhaps a little too quickly.

The woman smiled sadly and took another sip. "I left him… Yesterday, actually."

_Yesterday?_ Daryl stared at her, unable to believe his luck. He had a chance . However, the moment he thought it, he shook his head. _Tha hell ya thinkin', Daryl? Woman jus' left 'er husband. Ya think she'd wanna get with some dirty redneck?_ "Oh… any reason in particular ya left?" he pried nonchalantly. He tried to sound uninterested, but knew he was failing. If she left, the guy had to be an asshole… or maybe she was in love with someone else. Someone that wasn't Daryl. The thought sent jealousy pulsing through him like a fire in his blood. Where this possessiveness came from, he had no idea.

It scared him.

She sighed and downed the last of her drink. "Can I have another?" she asked, avoiding his question.

He nodded and took the glass to get it refilled. While he worked, the woman started talking again. "My husband's an asshole… I just… couldn't take it anymore."

Daryl knew better than to ask any more about it. When the glass was filled, he gave it back to her, and took a step back from the counter. He glanced around at the other customers briefly. Merle was still holed up in the corner with that blond woman, and the men at the other end of the bar seemed docile enough. "You got awful quiet," the silver-haired woman commented, watching him with her piercing sapphire eyes.

He met her gaze and tried to give her a small smirk. "I don't know what else ta say."

She smirked back. "You haven't even asked me my name."

"I thought you said bartenders are supposed to just listen?"

The woman laughed. It was a quiet one, but Daryl though it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "My name is Carol," she told him with a smile.

_Carol._

"How about you?" she asked. "Mysterious bartender that looks more like a biker."

Daryl chuckled. "Name's Daryl Dixon, ma'am."

"Well, Daryl, you're very nice to talk to," Carol told him

"I can talk all night, woman," he jested, feeling almost comfortable with her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking.

She smiled. "I'm looking forward to that, Mr. Dixon."

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Carol stayed at the bar all night. It was only a weeknight, so it never got very crowded. When closing time came around, Daryl was actually upset that she had to leave. They had talked almost the entire night, and there had been many times when Daryl had found himself laughing, or telling amusing anecdotes from his childhood with Merle. Sometime during the night, Merle had taken the blond upstairs to their little apartment, so Daryl was even less eager to go up there.

When all the other customers left and the two of them were all alone, Carol started looking around nervously. "Where'd everyone go?"

Daryl smirked. "It's closin' time."

Her eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me? I never meant to keep you!" She got up immediately and began to rummage through her purse. When she handed him the money for her drinks, he waved it away. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"_Daryl,_" she practically pleaded. The sound of his name on her tongue made him shiver. "Please, take it."

"Forget it, woman."

Carol frowned and set the money down on the counter. "Well, I'm not taking it. Use the money to pay for all the free drinks your brother was giving that blond," she said simply. "I'm not going to let you waste your own money paying for my things."

Daryl stared at her for a few moments in shock. She met his gaze somewhat apologetically before turning around. "I should be going…" she murmured, walking toward the door.

"Wait!" Daryl shouted after her. She stopped instantly and turned to face him. "Are ya… I mean… Will I ever see ya again?"

Carol gave him a wry smile. "We'll see, Dixon… See you around." And she walked out the door.

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A/N: So what do you guys think so far? Leave a review and let me know! :D


	2. Chapter 2

_You and I - Chapter 2_

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**So, Chapter 2. So soon after the first, I know. What a concept.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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**2**

Sunlight slanted through the window, into Daryl's bedroom, and seemed to shine straight into his eyes. The light roused him from his sleep, and sent him rolling onto his other side. With a remorseful groan, he opened his eyes. After a few blinks, the world came into focus. His room was small and the main reason why his abode felt so claustrophobic. The room was six feet by ten feet, and his small single bed took up the majority of the space. Parallel to the bed on the opposite wall was a rather large dresser which meant that there was only a small path between the two.

Daryl rubbed his eyes and yawned. He sat up groggily and swung his legs over the side. Pushing himself to his feet, he stretched and picked up an old pair of pants that were lying on the ground. Pulling them on, he turned to face the window. He spied Merle's red pickup truck sitting by the entrance. Next to that was Merle's old bike that had recently become Daryl's. And next to the bike was a small white car that Daryl didn't recognize. He narrowed his eyes, hoping that it wasn't some bill collector. Then he remembered the woman Merle had brought home last night. _Ah, it's probably her car._

Satisfied that he had an owner for it, Daryl pulled a faded red t-shirt on and exited his room. His back was sore from leaning on the counter so much the previous night. His mind drifted back to Carol, and an unfamiliar ache rose in his chest. He wondered where she'd gone, what she was going to do. If she'd left her husband, did that mean she had a place to stay? He sighed and shook his head. A part of him was trying to say that he should have offered to let her stay there, but another part argued that the offer would have offended her, or it could have frightened her.

As he stepped into the living room, he saw his brother lying on the daybed, a blanket covering his lower half. One of his arms was behind his head, and the other dangled off the edge of the bed. His mouth was open, and he snored quietly. The living room had been Merle's domain from the very beginning. He claimed the comfy daybed and had taken permanent control of the TV remote.

The kitchen was a room about as large as Daryl's bedroom and was the closet to the door. That room was hardly ever touched by the brothers, except when they used the microwave to cook frozen dinners.

Daryl noticed that his brother was sleeping alone, which made Daryl a little uneasy. If the woman was gone, then why was that car there? _Better find out._

He went down the bar, and stepped outside. The white car was off, but he could make out the figure of a person sitting inside. As he started toward it, he was stunned by who it was.

Sitting in the driver's seat of the car was Carol. Her eyes were closed her head she appeared to be sleeping. Daryl stopped in front of the car and stared at the scene for a minute or too. _She's sleepin' in 'er car? Fuckin' knew I shoulda asked 'er ta stay!_

He wasn't sure how to go about waking her. He didn't want to knock on the window and scare her, but he had no other way to alert her of his presence. Daryl tapped his fingers on the window, and saw her body jerk as she woke. Her head snapped around, a look of fear on her face. Daryl felt bad for having to wake her like that, but his heart fluttered when he saw her face brighten. She opened the door and stepped out slowly. "What are you doing here?" she asked, forcing a smile.

Daryl frowned. "Could ask ya tha same."

Carol's face fell. She hugged herself and sighed. "So I'm living in my car—so what?"

He shifted his weight and folded his arms across his chest. "Ya coulda told me."

Her face hardened. "Why? It's none of your goddamn business, anyway."

"I woulda let ya stay in tha bar, that's why," he told her, not swayed by her anger. "I ain't heartless. Look, I wanna help ya, Carol. What d'ya need? Do ya got a place ta go? Do ya even know where ya goin'?"

When she didn't reply, he sighed. "Ya can stay here for a while—work in the bar ta pay for yer rent. I got an extra bed upstairs." That was a lie, but he could damn well find a bed. "Ya don't need ta be livin' in yer car when any psycho and come up and hijack ya, or hurt ya, or… god knows what else." The thought of something like that ever happening to her made him feel physical pain. "Jus' stay 'ere… Please."

Carol looked up and met his gaze. "You wouldn't want me here," she told him softly, all emotion gone from her voice.

"Tha hell I wouldn't," he answered, taking a step closer. "I'd rather have ya livin' wit me than bein' out 'ere."

She shook her head. "I'll only be a burden…"

"Naw, ya'll help out," Daryl assured her. "Ya'll fit right in."

Carol sighed. "I don't wanna impose…"

"Aw, hell, woman."

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe I'm doing this… but okay."

Daryl felt his heart soar. "Alright. Get yer stuff and I'll show ya where ya'll be stayin'."

Carol shifted nervously. "This is all I got," she admitted, looking down at her outfit. She carried a small clutch in her hand, but that was it.

"Okay," Daryl said. He'd have to take her shopping some time. Until then, she'd have to wear his clothes—Merle's would be too big. "C'mon then."

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Daryl took Carol up to the apartment and woke Merle up from his slumber. The older Dixon was not pleased to be awoken at such an early hour, but when he saw Carol, his disgruntled attitude disappeared. He kept her talking while Daryl cleaned out his room for Carol to use. He had no idea where he was going to sleep—he'd sleep on the desk in the office downstairs if he had to—but he made sure the room was clean and ready for Carol to use.

When he was finished, Carol went inside to get herself situated. She asked the brothers for a few minutes alone to gather her thoughts, which they granted. Once she closed the door, Merle's friendly smile disappeared. He grabbed Daryl by the shirt and drug him out into the stairwell that led down to the bar.

"What tha hell were ya thinkin'?!" he demanded in a furious whisper.

"Tha woman was out in our parkin' lot sleepin' in 'er car! What was I supposed ta do?" Daryl demanded stubbornly.

"Uh, I dunno—let her!" Merle growled. His face softened slightly then. "I know ya got a soft spot for 'em, but we can't take in every homeless woman that comes around. They ain't our problem."

"Ya didn't talk ta here!" Daryl defended sharply. "Okay, I did. She's… she's my friend, and I'm not gonna let her live like that."

"Yer friend?" Merle sneered. "Ya had one conversation wit 'er—a long one, granted—ya don't fuckin' know her! For all we know, she could be some psychopath that's gonna slit our throats in our sleep and then burn this place ta tha fuckin' ground!"

"Oh, c'mon, Merle! Ya saw 'er jus' as clearly as I did! She don't look like no killer!" Daryl growled, turning back toward the apartment. "And I ain't kickin' 'er out, either, Merle. She's stayin' and that's that."

As he turned his back on his brother, he heard him growl. "Fine. But don't come cryin' ta me when this bites ya in tha ass! What's yer plan anyway?"

"I'm gonna let 'er work here. Pay her rent that way," Daryl answered, looking over his shoulder. He grabbed the doorknob to the apartment, but didn't open it. Merle was a few steps below him, but looked no less intimidating than he would right up in Daryl's face.

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled. "I know what yer really tryin' ta do lil' brotha. Sure she's a nice piece a' ass, but she ain't worth it."

"Shut tha fuck up, man," Daryl snapped. "Ya don't know a fuckin' thing!" In truth, Daryl hadn't even thought of that. He knew that it was very possible that he had a chance of getting physically involved with Carol now that she was living there with them, but that hadn't been his intent. He hadn't meant for it to look that way either. _How else are people gonna look at it?_ He cursed himself for not figuring in that crucial detail. Of course people would think they were intimate, even if they weren't. For a moment, Daryl's thought his stomach solidified to ice as he wondered what Carol thought of it. Did she think that he only wanted her there so he can get in her bed? He prayed to God she didn't. He didn't want her to think that he was _that_ kind of man.

Merle rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's yer fuckin' life, but if she tries ta kill us in our sleep, or steals our shit, I'm done wit ya!"

Daryl gave him one last glare before throwing open the door violently. When it was about a foot open, the door hit something solid. The force with which Daryl had shoved it open sent whatever it was tumbling to the floor. A gasp, and a grunt of pain followed. Daryl rushed inside to find Carol lying on her side. "Shit!" He knelt down beside her and gently tried to help her to her feet. "Fuck, Carol… I'm sorry, I didn't meant ta—"

"It's okay… I shouldn't have been eavesdropping," she answered waving him away. "It was my own stupid fault."

Daryl's stomach tightened. _She was listenin'?_

Carol rubbed the arm she'd fallen on, and refused to meet his eyes. "Daryl… I really don't want to be any trouble. Look, I can leave… That's okay with me. You don't have to look after me like I'm a little kid. If you're brother doesn't trust me—"e

"Ah, fuck 'im," Daryl said, waving a hand toward the stairs, where Merle had disappeared. Daryl knew that he had probably gone down the bar to have a drink, or maybe to work on the sign he'd bought. "He don't know shit. An' look… what he said about… about me wantin' ta… It ain't like that… I don't think a' ya like that… I mean—it ain't that ya ain't pretty I jus'…" Daryl decided to stop there before he humiliated himself any further. He hung his head and let his shoulders sag in defeat.

To his surprise, he heard Carol giggle. "It's okay, Daryl. I get it… Even if that's what you did want… I wouldn't have minded."

He looked up, but she had already turned away, heading back toward her new room. Daryl stared after her, his mouth agape. Had he just heard what he think he heard? _Wouldn't a' minded? Tha hell… She don't mean? _

Carol paused in the doorway of the room and turned toward him. "You don't happen to have any clothes I can change into, do you?"

"Uh… jus' mine… They'll be big, but—"

"They'll work," she stated firmly. "Where are they?"

Daryl stepped into the room and pointed to the dresser. "In there. Shirts are in the first few drawers. Pants are in the bottom."

"Thanks." She pulled open one of the drawers and rummaged through his shirts. Most of them were old, faded t-shirts. Ninety percent of them had the names of bands on them—most of which Daryl didn't even like anymore. Carol pulled out a black one that had some old nineties band on it. Without warning, she pulled her dark green top over her head and discarded it on the floor. Daryl stared. She wore a black bra with lace bordering the cups. He knew that his eyes were probably bulging out of his head. To his dismay, his eyes were glued to her breasts, and they couldn't seem to move no matter how hard he willed them to. They were small, but not nonexistent. In fact, they looked at if they would fit into his hands perfectly…

He drove the thought from his head, and forced himself to look away. His cheeks flooded with heat as he felt Carol's eyes on him. "It's okay," she said innocently. "You can look."

It was then that his pants began to feel a little tight. This woman was going to kill him. Just the tone of her voice was sexy to him. _I need to get out of here before I go crazy,_ he thought. He raised his eyes to admire her one last time before whipping around and fleeing from the room. As he ran toward the exit of the apartment, he thought he heard her laughing.

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A/N: Review? :)


	3. Chapter 3

_You and I - Chapter 3_

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**Maybe I'm taking this story too fast. Maybe not. It's meant to be short, so we gotta keep things movin' along.**

**Oh, and I know Daryl is kinda OC. Yeah... that happens. Oh, and you might notice that Daryl is a little... well... stupid in this chapter. Meaning he doesn't ask questions when he probably should and that's because he's distracted by her and he doesn't think to ask them. Like about the scars - all he thinks about his her and how beautiful and incredible she is, and how strong she is. He doesn't think to ask how she got them.**

**Just a little explanation for later.**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

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**3**

Days went by and Carol slowly began to fall into the brothers' daily routine. However, ever since the incident in his bedroom, Daryl had been sticking clear of the silver-haired woman. He feared that if he ever found himself alone with her… well he didn't really know _what _would happen, and he wasn't eager to find out.

Almost a week had gone by, and Daryl had almost perfected avoiding her. He had Merle show her the ropes, or would at least standby to make sure his brother wasn't being a dick to her. Other than those rare times, he was almost never around her. He was outside helping Merle with the electric sign, polishing bar tables, fixing bar tables, doing paperwork, paying bills, ordering new alcohol shipments, cleaning the apartment—yes, he spent time in the apartment just to get away from her—anything he could think of to _stay away._

However, one night, she cornered him.

It was approximately nine days after she'd arrived, and the bar had just closed for the day. Daryl was in his office, finishing up the last of his paperwork when Carol came in. He looked up and immediately froze. The beautiful woman watched him from the doorway for a while, and then stepped inside. To Daryl's dismay, she shut the door behind her.

"I want to know what your problem is," she demanded.

"Huh?" Daryl hated how he got so tongue-tied around her. He could hardly ever come up with a good answer to her questions—just a dumbfounded "huh" most of the time. _She probably thinks I'm slow, or somethin'._

"Why are you avoiding me? Ever since I moved in, you've been staying as far away from me as you can, and I wanna know why!" Carol snapped. Daryl was surprised to see pain, as well as anger in her eyes. "You invited me to stay and you aren't even talking to me anymore! I thought we were friends Daryl—Merle has been more talkative with me than you have, and he hates me! So tell me why you seem to hate me too all of a sudden. What did I do?"

Daryl looked down. He had no idea that avoiding her would affect her like this. She seemed genuinely hurt and upset, and it made his chest ache again. The redneck sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Carol, I didn't mean for ya ta think that I don't like ya… I do like ya… more than I probably should." He stopped, and risked a glance up at her.

Carol was staring at him with confused and sad eyes. He saw tears glistening in them, and in that moment, he had never felt more like a total asshole. He stood up from his desk and went to her. As he neared her, Carol avoided his eyes and stared at the floor. Daryl stopped when he was less than a foot away and took her hands in his. "That's why I was avoiding you… I didn't know how to act around ya is all… I do like ya Carol," he assured her. "I don't think I could ever have it in me ta hate ya. And tha only thing ya did was be so goddamn beautiful."

She brought her eyes back up to his. A tear trickled down her cheek, but Daryl wiped it away with his thumb. His hand lingered there, cupping her cheek. This was the first time he had ever really touched her. Her skin was soft, and pliant under his palm. He ran his thumb across the plains of her cheek, cherishing the feeling of finally being able to touch this perfect woman. She let out a shaky breath and breathed, "Daryl…"

His other hand went to her waist, and gently pulled her closer. When her body touched his, he let out his own quivering exhale. She was small, firm, and fragile at the same time. His arm curled around the small of her back, holding her close.

Carol met his eyes, her own sparkling with an emotion that was alien to him. Without warning, their lips met in a hungry union. Daryl didn't remember leaning in to kiss her, but he must have, for his lip moved just as passionately as hers, matching her. His one hand left her face, and snaked around her back, pulling her closer still. Carol's arms locked around his neck, and her fingers began to run though and pull on his hair.

Daryl groaned into her mouth, and felt her tongue prod his lips. He met hers with his, and they began an intricate dance that had existed since the dawn of time. Carol's hands abandoned his hair, and slid down his chest, all the way to the waistline of his pants. They paused there, asking a silent question. Daryl broke the kiss and pulled back from her so he could see her face. She stared up at him, her eyes bright and wild with desire. They were both panting, both unable to speak, and yet they seemed to understand what the other wanted.

He pulled his t-shirt over his hand and tossed it into a nearby corner. Carol didn't speak, but removed her own shirt as well. Daryl's hands trembled as he cupped her breasts through her bra. Carol let out a small moan, which only made Daryl's pants feel tighter than ever before. He ghosted his fingers across her exposed skin, still not peeking below the fabric. Carol seemed to get fed up with his gentle caresses and unhooked her bra in the back. Daryl stared as the straps slipped from her shoulders, and the lingerie went floating to the floor.

Carol took his hands and pulled them to her chest, urging him to continue what he had been before. Daryl did so, cupping her breasts softly. He experimentally ran a thumb over one of her nipples. Her body shuddered, and Carol let out a small, breathy grunt. Daryl watched with fascination and her nipple pebbled under his ministrations. He continued to play with it, running it between his thumb and forefinger softly. Occasionally, he gave it a gentle squeeze, which earned another sound of pleasure from Carol.

Her hands ran along the waist of his jeans, pausing at the button. After a moment's hesitation, she undid it. Daryl immediately stopped what he was doing. He had never done anything like this before in all his life. The hunter remained as still as a statue as Carol pulled down the zipper. He let out a small grunt of relief as his erection was slightly freed—no longer having to strain against the tight fabric of his pants. Carol slowly pulled them off his hips and let them slide the rest of the way to the floor.

She cupped him through his pants, causing him to suck in a painful breath. His cock twitched beneath the fabric of his boxers. Carol smiled in response. The next thing Daryl knew, his boxers had joined his pants on the floor and he was fully naked before her. Carol didn't meet his gaze, but stared at his erection, studying him. He gulped, nervous.

Carol looked away suddenly, and became almost withdrawn. She took a step back and unbuttoned her own pants, then paused. She looked up at him, her eyes wary, and almost shy. "There's… something I should tell you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Daryl was too far gone in his lust to be suspicious. "Anything."

She looked down again, seeming frustrated. "I have… scars. On my legs, and… pelvis."

His eyes widened slightly. In his need for Carol, he'd forgotten about his own scars—the ones he'd gotten as a kid from his father. "Oh, that's fine," he told her. "I don't mind… I got 'em too." He turned around so she could see the devastation on his back. "My father was a mean son of a bitch," he said, turning back to her.

Carol watched him sadly. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Daryl."

"Ain't nothin' ta be sorry for."

She forced a smile before tugging her pants down. She wore a pair of black panties, that had matched her bra. Daryl could already see the faint lines on her thighs, and waist, just below her belly button. With a deep breath, Carol took off her panties. Her groin was covered in scars similar to those on her legs. It was as if someone had dumped scalding hot liquid onto her pelvis and thighs. He couldn't imagine how painful that would have been—how excruciating. Daryl didn't flinch. He didn't show any signs of disgust. He looked up and met her eyes. "Ta go through that—gotta be one a' tha toughest women I've ever met, Carol."

Suddenly, she was in his arms, hugging him close to her. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, kissing his neck gently. "Thank you…"

She pulled away from him then and gave him a real, genuine smile. He smiled back and pressed his lips to hers. In that moment, Daryl was the happiest he'd ever been in his entire life.

* * *

They made love on the floor of the office. When they had finished, they got dressed and went up to Daryl's room. They got in bed together, and that was how Merle found them the next morning—wrapped in each other's arms in Daryl's cramped bedroom, fully clothed.

Instead of waking the lovebirds, Merle left them alone, although Daryl woke shortly after his brother had left the apartment. He laid there on the bed, staring at the ceiling, almost dazed. His mind simply couldn't process what had happened the previous night. He wasn't even sure what it was. Was it the start of something? Was it love, or was it just sex? Had it ever been anything but sex appeal? Was it a one-time thing? Was Carol going to leave him alone now that she'd slept with him?

He looked down at the beautiful lying in his arms. Daryl Dixon didn't know a damn thing about love, but he imagined that what he felt at that moment was the closest thing he would ever get to it. His heart swelled with affection for her; all he wanted to do was hold her there forever and keep her safe from anything that dared to try to hurt her.

Daryl pressed his lips to her forehead, and closed his eyes. It would be many years before he would ever get the courage to say the words aloud, but at that moment, he shouted it in his head: _I love ya, Carol._

* * *

A/N: Sorry. No descriptive sex scene. I seem to have a problem writing those lately.

And... I'm editing this at 12:17 AM. Just 17 minutes late or else I would've been three for three as far as posting chapters goes.

Anyway. Review?


	4. Chapter 4

_You and I - Chapter 4_

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**I have one thing to say about this chapter:**

**That escalated quickly. **

**So sorry for such a long wait on this story. I had really bad writer's block for a long time, but I think I finally got rid of it!**

**I don't own the Walking Dead.**

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**4**

Carol shifted against his chest, and let out a small grunt. "Mmm? Daryl?"

"I'm here, woman."

Her eyes opened slowly, and a smile spread across her face. "Hey." She snuggled closer to him and let out a contented sigh. "What time is it?"

"Still late mornin'," Daryl informed her. "We got plenty a' time before tha bar opens."

She smiled and looked up at him tiredly. "We'll have to make good use of it then," she murmured. "But I want to know more about you first."

"Me?" Daryl didn't know how to respond to that. Even though most would find it hard to believe, Daryl had never really been in a relationship before. The closest he'd ever gotten to one was back in high school when a girl took pity on him and took him to prom one year. She ditched him later that night anyway. Because of that, he never really had anyone to tell things to. Merle was his only companion, and his older brother practically knew everything there was to know about him.

"Yes Daryl," Carol said with a small smile. Her face darkened slightly then. "Daryl... We rushed into this, and you know it," she murmured. "I think… I think we should get to learn a little something about each other before we continue."

Looking back, Daryl knew that she was right. At the time, it all seemed like such a good idea—having sex with her, and letting her live with them. Now he realized how foolish it all had been. _What tha hell was I thinkin'?_ He wondered briefly, but he already knew the answer. He hadn't been thinking. All he had been focused on was Carol, and how beautiful she was, and how badly he wanted her to stay with him. The least they could do now was sit down and have what would be their second real conversation.

"Alright," he said quietly. He could hear the irritation in his voice, and he furtively cringed in remorse. It wasn't Carol he was mad at—it was himself. He had been so blind, and so self-centered through all of this. _She probably thinks I took 'er in fer jus' one thing…_ "What do ya wanna know?"

Carol thought for a minute. "How old are you?"

Daryl laughed at her question, but stopped when he saw her unamused look. "Thirty-six," he told her. "How about you?"

She looked down, seeming almost ashamed. "I didn't know you were so young," she whispered, mostly to herself. "I'm forty-one."

Daryl couldn't help but chuckle. He knew that she probably felt upset that she was older than him, but Daryl could not get over how cute she looked. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her lips were puckered ever so slightly. He leaned down and kissed her softly. "I ain't that young woman," he murmured, pulling away. "And ya ain't old neither."

Carol smiled weakly. "Okay… what is your favorite color?"

"I thought I got to ask questions."

"Fine," she said, giving him a playful glare. "Go ahead."

"It's brown—my favorite color," he said before thinking long and hard. "So . . . Where are ya headed? I mean, ya sure as hell didn't plan on stayin' here, I'm sure."

Carol smirked and snuggled the crook of his neck. "Why, you want me to leave?"

"Hell no," Daryl said, perhaps a bit too defensively. That was the _last_ thing he wanted. Ever. "I was jus'. . . curious about where ya were headed before all this."

"I . . . don't really know," she admitted softly. "I was just . . . goin'. As fast as I could. Tryin' ta get away from Ed."

"Ed. That yer husband?" Daryl inquired.

She didn't answer, but he got the message.

"What about you?" she asked. "Where are you goin' exactly, Dixon?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"What are your plans? I mean . . . Ya ain't gonna stay here at this bar for the rest of your life are you? Don't you have . . . any goals? Any dreams you wanna accomplish?" Carol asked. She looked at him with genuinely curious sapphire eyes. Daryl just stared at her for a few moments, struck breathless by her appearance. _God, this woman's beautiful,_ he marveled once more and at the looks that would make Aphrodite jealous.

He then remembered he'd been asked a question. "Well . . . not really. I ain't never been a big dreamer, ya know? Stuck ta small stuff . . . figured I wouldn't be so disappointed that way."

"Why?"

Daryl snorted. "Look at me, Carol. I'm a redneck that barely graduated high school. I ain't gonna make nothin' wit' my life. Hell, I'll probably be in this damn bar till tha day I die."

She was quiet then. "I think you could make something of yourself if you tried, Daryl," she murmured after a while. "I've seen the way you work – the way you manage this place. Any company would be privileged to have you as an employee. People don't work hard the way you do anymore. All they want is a paycheck. They don't care about the job. I'm telling you Daryl – you could make it out there."

He had nothing to say in response to that.

* * *

Daryl sat in his office that afternoon, just before they opened the doors. He was browsing through the growing pile of bills that still needed to be paid. He let out a sigh just as Merle came into the office, carrying a newspaper in his hand. He threw it down on the desk, sending bills flying everywhere. Daryl cussed and began to gather them back up. "Asshole," he grumbled.

Merle smirked. "Ya know ya love me that way, lil' brotha. Anyway, I got ya a paper – figured ya might wanna read it."

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Ya can open up tha doors when yer ready. Make sure Carol's down here and waitin' at tha bar. We always get guys comin' in early."

"Yeah, I know, lil' brotha. I've been on this earth longer than you have, and I know how ta run a fuckin' bar," Merle said. Anyone else would have thought that he was genuinely offended by Daryl's instructions, but the younger Dixon knew his brother was just kidding.

As Merle left, Daryl glanced down at the paper Merle had brought in, and noticed something strange. One of the headlines read "Man Stabbed in His Own Home: Domestic Violence Involved?" He rolled his eyes – the press always blew things out of proportion, but he scanned the article anyway. There was a certain name in it that stuck out to him: Ed Peletier.

_Ed._

Carol's husband's name was Ed.

_No. No it couldn't . . . She wouldn't . . . Hell, she don't got it in her ta kill someone, even if it is an asshole!_ Then again, Daryl didn't really know much about this woman he was not only employing, but now sleeping with. They rushed into things, and he hardly knew her . . . Hell, he didn't even know her last name for crying out loud! And now, she could be a murderer for all he knew.

Daryl got up and went out into the bar. He saw Carol sitting on one of the bar stools, scrolling through her cellphone. He watched her for a minute. She was so small, and she looked so helpless and fragile. Could she . . . really have killed someone? Daryl felt as if his gut had solidified into a block of ice. If Carol was a murderer it meant that she would be wanted by the police. That meant they'd come for her, and take her away from him. Maybe forever.

This couldn't be happening.

He couldn't lose her – not now. Even though he barely knew her, and even though there was a possibility that she had taken a life, Daryl didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to be separated from her. Killer or not, she was still Carol. And he still felt some kind of love for her, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Carol couldn't have done it.

Carol could not have killed her husband.

* * *

A/N: Yeah.

Well.

That happened.

Review?


	5. Chapter 5

_You and I - Chapter 5_

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**Oh my gosh, hi you guys. I know this has been _forever_ and I am so sorry for that! The thing is, I had the _entire chapter_ typed up about two weeks ago. Everything was done. It was in its final form and ready to post, and then my computer overheated and had to shut off, and I lost _the entire thing_. So then I had to go back and retype it, and I had a hard time doing that. So this chapter is not as good as the original one I had planned, but this is what we are left with because of my stupid computer.**

**So that's why it took so long, and why this chapter is shorter than originally intended.**

**I do not own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**5**

In the wee hours of the morning when the bar finally closed, Daryl stayed in the bar, cleaning up. Carol and Merle had already retired for the night, and he knew that the silver-haired woman was probably waiting for him in bed. Daryl felt his stomach twist. How could he get in bed with her – how could he make love to her – knowing what she had done?

_Ya don't know,_ Daryl insisted. _Ya only have one article that don't mean shit . . . Carol would never kill anybody. This is Merle's doin' – he's puttin' doubt in yer head, that's all._ As hard as he tried to convince himself that this was the truth, Daryl had a hard time believing it. Sure, Ed was a fairly common name, but what are the odds that she leaves her husband a few days ago, and now a story is appearing in the paper of a man name Ed being killed? It all made him feel uneasy.

Daryl heard the bell on top of the door ring as someone entered the bar. He had his back to the door, facing the bottles of whiskey that lined the back wall. He didn't bother to turn around. "Sorry, we're closed," he said simply.

"I'm not here for a drink, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl turned to see a cops standing there. He wore a khaki uniform along with a dark brown sheriff's hat. "What can I do fer ya, officer?" he asked, knowing better than to toss him out.

The cop pulled out a badge and showed it to him. "My name's Sheriff Rick Grimes," he said authoritatively. "I'd like ta ask ya a couple questions."

Daryl tried to keep himself calm. He knew that the cop was here for one of two reasons; one, Merle got in trouble again, most likely for buying meth again, or two . . . Daryl furtively shook his head. This couldn't be because of Carol. He gave the officer a curt nod. "Sure, shoot."

Rick pulled out a picture and held it in front of the redneck's face. "Ya seen this woman?"

He had to study the photo for a second, but then he realized who it was. It was a younger Carol with auburn-colored hair. Her hair was long in the picture – it felt to her shoulders – and was full of kinky curls. Her eyes were bright, and she was wearing that beautiful smile of hers. She stood next to a rather portly man with short black hair. Daryl realized that had to be her husband, Ed. Both of them looked happy; they were smiling and seemed to be blissfully in love.

"Have you seen this woman?" Rick asked.

"Nope," he lied too easily.

"Ya sure?"

"Yep."

"Really?" Rick asked, arching an eyebrow. "'Cause I have witnesses saying that she was here . . . oh, about a few weeks ago. They also said that you and her seemed to be having a pretty pleasant conversation."

Daryl stiffened. "Yer point?"

"Do you know where she is?"

"No."

"Ya know, Dixon, I could have you arrested for aiding and abetting."

"I don't know where she is – I swear," Daryl nearly growled. He was already beginning to lose his patience with this cop.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Do ya mind if I take a look around tha place?"

That just set him off. How dare this cop come in here and ask to look around with no real evidence that Carol was even there! "Yeah, I do! Ya don't' got no right ta go snoopin' around through my shit without a warrant!"

If Rick was suspicious of his reaction, he didn't voice it. Instead he just stood there, studying him with hard eyes. "I heard ya got a brother – he know where she went?"

"No."

The sheriff was quiet a long time, looking around the bar, as if waiting for Daryl to say something else. Daryl watched him closely. The cop looked to be younger than Daryl, perhaps only by a few years. His hair was hidden by his sheriff's hat, but it looked like it was short, and brown. His eyes were surprisingly bright, and a deep blue color. He was clean-shaven, and wore a golden ring on his left hand. After Daryl determined that he wouldn't say anything, he decided to ask a few questions of his own.

"So . . . this woman . . ." he began, earning the cop's attention.

Rick looked at him, with an almost innocent look in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"What'd she do?"

"I'm afraid that ain't somethin' I can go around tellin' tha public, Mr. Dixon."

"Well if yer comin' in my bar askin' about my customers, I'd like ta know why," he answered sharply with hard eyes. This Rick didn't scare him. Daryl was sure that if it came down to it, he could easily overpower the man. Not only that, but there was nothing Daryl had done that he could get in trouble for. At least as long as no one knew he was hiding a fugitive in his bed.

The cop sighed, and shifted his weight. He seemed to be admiring the numerous bottles of whiskey behind Daryl's back. "Ya want a drink?" Daryl offered. Maybe then he'd be more willing to tell Daryl what Carol had _supposedly_ done, or at least maybe he'd stop being such a dick. "On tha house."

Rick debated it for a moment. "I suppose one wouldn't hurt. Gimme a shot a' bourbon."

"Nice choice," Daryl commented, getting the bottle out from behind a counter. He slammed a shot glass down on the bar in front of Rick, and filled it with the whiskey.

Rick nodded appreciatively before taking a sip. "A about a week or so ago, a team got called up to this apartment complex down in Atlanta. The other tenants were complaining about the smell of decay coming from one of the rooms . . . When the landlord went inside to see what was causing the stench, he found . . . well, the body of the man you saw in that photograph."

"What, so ya think she killed 'im?" Daryl inquired casually.

The cop took another drink. "Well, we are almost certain that some kind of domestic violence is involved. The neighbors said they would always hear crying, crashing, and yelling coming from the apartment. Either they had a really bad, dysfunctional marriage, and or there was physical abuse involved. Whether tha woman was the giver or the receiver we don't know for sure."

"So ya think that . . . she jus' snapped one day and did him in? I mean, ya don't have any other idea as ta what happened?"

Rick arched an eyebrow at the question. "Her committing the murder is the most likely explanation."

"What if someone was after them?" Daryl suggested. "I mean, what if someone was out ta get tha husband and they killed him? She had ta run 'cause she was afraid whoever got tha husband would get 'er too?"

He considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "We sent the knife to the lab – her fingerprints were all over it."

"Maybe she tried to get it out of her husband's chest?"

"Maybe, but unlikely." Rick took another sip of his drink.

"She jus' doesn't look like tha killin' type ta me," Daryl said, realizing he might have sounded too passionate when defending her.

Rick smiled grimly. "They rarely do – at least in cases like this."

Daryl was quiet then.

The cop finished off his drink, backed away from the counter. Daryl saw him reach for his wallet, and shook his head. "Don't worry 'bout it – I said it was on tha house."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Ya sure?"

"Yeah." Daryl figured it might help his case, or maybe even Carol's if he gave the cop a free drink.

"Well, thank ya," Rick said with a small smile. He then went back to business-mode. "So if tha woman comes back in, will let me know?" he asked.

Daryl nodded. "Sure."

Rick nodded and left the bar. Daryl didn't wait until he heard the telltale crunching of gravel as the sheriff pulled out of the parking lot. Once he was sure that the cop was gone, Daryl took a deep breath and headed upstairs to the apartment. He and Carol had some things to discuss.

* * *

A/N: Review?


	6. Chapter 6

_You and I - Chapter 6_

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**So guys, it looks like we are nearing the end.**

**Chapter 7 will be the final chapter.**

**So, when this fic is finished, I want to do something else - in fact, I _am_ doing something else Walking Dead related. I just want to know what you think about it.**

**It's a Rickyl fic.**

**Here is the rough plotline:**

**Rick is a young police officer who is just joining the force. Shane Walsh, the sheriff, and his boss is constantly hitting on him and making advances. Rick insists that he is not gay, and is trying to save his already rocky relationship with his girlfriend, Lori. One day, just by chance, he pulls into a Dixon's Automotives to get his car serviced. That's where he meets the young, sweaty, and very attractive Daryl Dixon. At first, the two hit it off well and become best friends. They go out to bars, share drinks. And then, one day, Daryl kisses him. Rick is stunned and yells at him, saying he ruined everything. Daryl begs Rick not to tell anyone saying that his older brother Merle would beat him if he knew that Daryl was "a queer". Rick tells Daryl that his secret is safe with him, but as time goes by, Rick can't forget the kiss. It haunts him, and he might find that he might just have feelings for that silly redneck.**

**What do you think? Please let me know in a review, or a PM. Thanks!  
**

**I don't own The Walking Dead.**

* * *

**6**

When Daryl entered his room, he found Carol lying on the bed. She wore a skimpy tank-top and a pair of short shorts. Daryl felt his pants tighten at the mere sight of her. His resolve scolded him; he needed to remain focus on the task at hand. He couldn't let her body distract him. Carol looked up at him when he entered. Her sapphire eyes brightened immediately, and a smile stretched across her face. "Hi, Daryl," she almost purred.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself from giving in to her temptations. "We need to talk," he said. His voice came out harsher than he had meant for it to, but perhaps that was for the best. The gruffness got her attention. She sat up then, her nervousness showing.

"Okay," she said quietly, almost submissively. Daryl hated it. He hated seeing her look so small and helpless. His resolve gave his mind another rough shake. He couldn't let his feelings for her get in the way. This needed to be done – discussed at least. She sat up, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Daryl sat on the bed as well, about a foot apart from her.

"I was downstairs cleaning up tha bar . . ." he began. He paused, his eyes lingering on hers. He could see the fear in them. He wondered what was racing through her mind at that moment. Did she wonder if he had figured it out? "And a cop walked in – tha sheriff, actually."

Carol blanched. "Oh?" her voice came out high-pitched and squeaky.

"He said that . . . a woman killed 'er husband in their apartment down in Atlanta . . . Showed me a picture of her . . . and ya know . . . it was tha funniest thing . . . She looked a hell of a lot like you. Care to explain that?"

She looked down and let out a shaky breath. Daryl waited, his patience thinning with each passing second. After what seemed like a decade, Carol looked up at him, her sapphire eyes full of tears. _Fuck, don't cry, woman,_ he thought with annoyance. He hated tears – especially when he caused them, and they came from women. _Don't think that'll get ya off tha hook._ "It's true," she finally whimpered. "I . . . I killed him."

"Why?" Daryl prompted. He flinched at the venom in his own voice. A part of him hated talking to her, and treating her like a criminal. _But she is one._ Yet, it didn't feel right. He felt strongly for her, and it was uncalled for. He shouldn't feel this way about her – he hardly knew her. He had only had a handful of conversations with her. He had only shared one night with her. And yet, a part of him treated her as if he'd known her his whole life. It wasn't normal, and it made Daryl uncomfortable to think about. He couldn't deny their connection even though how unprecedented it was.

"Because he was a son of a bitch, that's why!" Carol replied with such ferocity that Daryl felt a twinge of fear. She sucked in a trembling breath, wringing her hands. "I had to kill him, Daryl . . . or he would have killed me. Ed . . . Ed wasn't a good guy. I didn't know that when I married him, okay? I had no idea what he was capable of . . . what he was, you know? I just . . . I just saw the mask he wore – a nice, middleclass man that was looking for a wife to spend the rest of his life with. And I was more than glad to give that to him . . . But after the wedding, everything changed . . . He wasn't who I thought he was."

"The scars," Daryl suddenly blurted out. There was almost an audible click in his head as he put two-and-two together. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not taken those into account?

Carol looked at him sadly and nodded. "Those were from him. He . . . he dumped a pot of boiling water on me. And then told the EMTs that . . . that I did it to myself on accident. He'd . . . he'd do other things too."

Daryl felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. His mind drifted back to his own father – Will Dixon – and how he had beaten him and Merle bloody plenty of times. He knew exactly what it felt like to get beat – what it felt like to be at the mercy of someone who was bigger and stronger than you. He didn't wish that feeling of helplessness on anyone, even his worst enemy. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. Now, he felt like a total asshole for attacking her like that. Of course what she did was still wrong, but hell did she have a good reason for it. Daryl probably would have done the same thing in he were in her shoes. "How did it . . . happen?"

She was silent for a long time, almost thoughtful. "I was in the kitchen . . . I was cutting up something for dinner – carrots, I think – and . . . and he came in and he was . . ." she paused and let out a tired sigh. "He was so mad about something. I don't even know what it was . . . something stupid, I can tell you that much. He just . . . He started ranting and raving, and I knew that he was gonna hit me eventually – he always did. I just . . . I kept cutting . . . squeezing the knife tighter and tighter until my knuckles went white. I was so tired of his voice . . . so tired of . . . _him._ And I just snapped. I spun around and I just . . . buried the knife in his chest. I felt his ribs snap as the knife's blade sliced through his flesh . . . and I watched as his blood gushed out his body and covered my hands."

Carol had a bizarre look on her face. She stared at some indeterminable spot on the Daryl knew that she had zoned out – her mind was somewhere else, lost in her memories.

"I don't regret it," she said suddenly, turning her head to look Daryl in the eye. He was surprised by the coldness he saw there. The Carol he knew – or at least the Carol he _thought_ he knew – always seemed so happy . . . so kind and loving. _I really don't know her . . . do I?_

"I don't regret any of it," she echoed. "If I could go back in time, I'd do it again . . . sooner, in fact. Ed got what he deserved."

"The police are lookin' fer ya," Daryl pointed out. "I don't see how that's good."

Carol sighed and shook her head. "It's worth it, Daryl . . . If you knew everything that he did . . ." She bit her lip and looked away again. "Daryl . . . if you don't want me here, I'll go."

"What?"

"You risked so much to keep me safe – you lied to that cop . . . you could have been arrested for that. You could have gone to prison . . . Just to keep me safe . . . You don't know how much that means to you. I know we hardly know each other . . . we rushed into this – you know we did. And yet . . . you put everything on the line for me. I can never thank you enough for that. I understand if you want me out of your bar for good . . . I . . . I understand if you never want to see me again."

The pain in her voice stung. Daryl looked away, feeling uncomfortable. His instincts were telling him to bolt, and get as far away from this situation as possible. But he couldn't. He wasn't in over his head anymore – he was at the bottom of the fucking ocean. "Carol . . . If they find ya here—"

"I know," she said softly. "I know."

"I don't want ya ta go," Daryl offered weakly. "I . . . I liked ya . . . a lot."

Carol looked up at him and gave him a small smile. "I liked you too."

Daryl nodded, trying to wrap his brain around this. Why did it have to end this way? Why did Carol have to be a murderer? Why did she have to go before they even got to know one another? Why did Carol have to be a wanted criminal because she killed an asshole that was going to die sooner than later anyway? It all seemed so unfair.

The next thing Daryl knew, she was right in front of him. He hadn't heard her get up, nor had he heard her approach. But there she was, her chest brushing his, and her lips just inches away. "You know, Daryl Dixon . . . The time I've spent with you . . . I think it's safe to say that it's been the best time of my life."

Taken aback slightly, Daryl asked, "Really?"

She nodded with a weak smile, and pressed her lips to his. Daryl melted into the kiss, his lips softening. Carol's tongue prodded at his lower lip, asking for entry, which he granted. This kiss was not like their previous ones; it was soft, exploratory, and slow. Neither of them knew when, or if they would see the other again, and they were savoring what could potentially be their final kiss.

Carol's arms wound around his neck, her fingers running through his hair. Daryl's own arms found their way around her waist, and held her flush against him. Very quickly, Daryl became lost in the sensations – the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair; the feeling of her tongue brushing across his, almost caressing it.

Suddenly, Carol's arms fell from his neck, and she broke away from the kiss, leaving a dazed and lustful Daryl in her wake. To his surprise, Carol did not leave him standing there, but instead pulled her tank top over her head. She wore no bra. Daryl stared at her lazily, a glazed look in her eyes. Carol smiled almost shyly at him. "Please, Daryl . . . let me have you one last time.

Daryl smirked, but it was halfhearted. This was the last time he would ever get to be with her like this. With one hand, he cupped her cheek, and with the other, he held both of her small hands. He looked into her beautiful, crystalline eyes and let out a small, bittersweet sigh. "Ya don't ever gotta ask fer that, woman."

* * *

Their lovemaking was slow and passionate. They hung on to every moment – every sensation – for as long as they could. Once they had both reached their climax, they lay spent on the tiny bed in Daryl's room. Daryl held an equally tired Carol in his arms, relishing the feeling of her body pressed so close to his. He planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and squeezed her gently.

"I love ya, Carol," he whispered, not knowing if she could hear him or not. _It's probably best if she don't,_ he thought sadly. In fact, it probably would have been best if the words had never passed from his lips at all. But he felt like he was obligated to say it. _I might never get tha chance ta say it again._

With that being said, Daryl closed his eyes and fell into an uneasy slumber.

When he woke, the space beside him where Carol had lain the night before was empty and cold. On the bedside table was a neatly folded piece of paper. Daryl grabbed it and flipped it open. There, in neat handwriting were the words:

_**Love you too.**_

_**Goodbye Daryl.**_

* * *

A/N: Review?


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